


Reconstruction

by LokiOfSassgaard



Category: Hot Fuzz (2007)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-19
Updated: 2009-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-28 01:22:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6308725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LokiOfSassgaard/pseuds/LokiOfSassgaard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Exploring the time in Sandford after the NWA</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reconstruction

He barely noticed the pouring rain, instead fixated on the brick wall before him. There wasn’t even anything particularly interesting about the brick wall. It looked like every other big, neatly stacked collection of bricks he’d ever seen before. But still, something about it seemed to hold his attention.

“Did you hear me, you bastard?”

Nicholas snapped to attention, finding himself suddenly standing within inches of Andrew, the older. “Eh? Oh... aye—” he shook his head quickly. “I mean, yeah.” God help him, he was starting to go local.

“Christ, you’re knackered,” Andrew declared, placing a heavy hand on Nicholas’ shoulder. He sighed heavily, leading the not-even-properly-an-inspector out of the building. “My turn, anyway, innit?”

Nicholas shrugged, admitting to himself, if nothing else, that he could do with a nap as he followed the detective to the old Fiat parked on the street. With his cottage “still not read y,” and the hotel now an official crime scene, he’d taken to camping in spare rooms or on uncomfortable sofas belonging to the other officers. It never lasted more than three days at a time, for reasons he still couldn’t quite figure out – not that he had time to devote such things to be though about. The first day would go rather smoothly, until he eventually annoyed wives or girlfriends to the point that he was all but put up for adoption and sent off to the next officer’s sofa.

At least Andrew had a bedroom available. It was a small one, and belonged to a six-year-old, but the kid was sent out of town away from all the confusion and horror that had taken over the village, along with every other person under the age of eighteen, and everyone agreed that it was for the best.  
Nicholas woke with a start, sprawled out on his stomach in an unfamiliar room. This was happening more often than not these days, but that wasn’t what scared him.

It was the getting used to it that scared him.

He took a few moments to rub the impending headache out of his eyes before struggling to his feet. His back cracked and snapped in protest as he fought his way out of the man-eating sofa, glancing quickly across the room for his dressing gown.

Man-eating sofa. Right. Tony’s, then. He gathered up what little belongings he had and rushed into the bathroom, hoping to be showered and out before Anne woke up and gave him that horrible pitying look she seemed so good at.  
He was surprised to see Doris enter the courthouse come police station without an escort of some sort, and in uniform instead. The officers all in from London ignored her easily, but it wasn’t hard to catch Andrew smiling warmly from across the wide room.

Nicholas got to his feet, eager to greet her properly, for once.

“All clear, then?” he asked, blatantly ignoring standard protocol, and accepting Doris’ hug.

“Yeah, and it’s abo ut time, too,” she said, looking round the room quickly. “I was starting to think they’d never let me back.” Her smile faded slowly as she snatched a nearby chair. “Just me an’ Andy, then?”

Nicholas smiled tiredly as he sat back at his desk, returning to the self-replenishing pile of paperwork on his desk. “Tony’s back on Friday,” he said. “Everyone’s going through the same line of questioning, Doris. There just aren’t enough people to do it quickly.”

Doris seemed to relax. “I s’pose.”

Nicholas sighed lightly as he tossed a file across his desk in her direction. “They’re not letting us do any real work yet, so you might as well help out in here,” he said. He pushed a biro across the desk, not missing Doris’ frown.

“What we doing here, then?” she asked, cautiously opening the folder.

“Pretending to look busy until they let us do something.”

Andrew laughed loudly as an empty Coke can hurtled through the air.  
He sat between the newly-reinstated Turner twins, occasionally taking his turn to cast an uneasy glance across the pub. The new inspector was sent down from London, like all the rest of the “help” that did nothing more than scare what remained of the locals. He knew his position as commanding officer was only meant to be temporary, and not entirely deserved, but after all he’d done for the village, he couldn’t help but feel betrayed. Just one more sharp sting in his chest from those who were supposed to be his friends.

Finally, the inspector noticed them, hunkered down in their dark little corner, and made a line straight toward the group.

“Should we really all be having lunch at once?” he asked, making a point to look at each and every one of them.

He was met with various grumbles and shrugs from the officers, none of them making direct eye contact.

“Well, there’s not much going on right now, is there?” Nichola s asked before he could stop himself.

The inspector stiffened up a bit, crossing his arms over his chest. “Angel, is it?” he asked.

Nicholas nodded curtly. “Yes, sir,” he said.

“You, of all people, should know that there’s always something going on,” he scolded. “For someone spoken so highly of at the Met, you certainly are shaping up to be a pain in my arse.”

Andrew snickered lightly. “Yeah, he’s a pain in everyone’s arse.”

“You’re not much better off, Detective,” the inspector snapped. “I want all of you back at the station in fifteen minutes.”

He turned sharply, stomping angrily out of the Crown, leaving the officers to look dumbly at one another.

“I don’t even work today,” Kevin Turner pointed out, receiving angry growls in response.  
The entire village was once again panic-stricken, everyone barricaded in their homes, and all Nicholas could do was laugh as they stood on the edge of t he field.

“Glad to think you think this is a laugh, Sergeant,” Inspector Clarke spat as they stood in the middle of the mediocre crop circle.

“Sorry... sir,” Nicholas said as he managed to control himself.

“Aliens!” Mr. Roper shouted at the officers. “Here in my field, and you lot are laughing about it!”

“No, sir,” Nicholas tried to assure.

“How do we know if they’re friendly aliens?” Tony asked, a hint of fear on the edge of his voice. “I mean, it’s not like we can read what they wrote, is it?”

“It’s not aliens, you tosser!” Andrew said confidently. “Maybe a tornado touched down, or... something.”

“Right,” Andy, the younger, hissed back. “A tornado, in England, touched down and left twelve neat little circles in the field.”

“I said maybe!” Andrew snapped.

“I don’t care what it was!” Mr. Roper shouted over the officers, interrupted again by Nicholas failing to co ntain his laughter.

“Angel, I appreciate your new-found sense of humour, but this is hardly the time!” Inspector Clarke shouted.

Nicholas rubbed his face with his finger tips, sighing deeply. “I just don’t see what we’re all arguing about,” he said simply. “Really, this is a good thing.”

“Good!?” Mr. Roper demanded. “This is my crop! Who’s going to pay for it?”

Nicholas shook his head. “I do appreciate that, sir, and it’s not exactly what I meant.”

“Then do tell us, Sergeant,” Clarke demanded. “Why this is a ‘good thing’.”

“It means, Inspector, that the hold on this village the NWA had is going away,” Nicholas pointed out. “Finally.” He inhaled deeply and turned to the angry farmer. “Mr. Roper, have you any planks of wood and a few lengths of rope?”

Mr. Roper looked dumbly at Nicholas for a few moments before gesturing off to a Range Rover parked on the side of the road. “I mi ght have in the truck,” he said, before plodding off to check. He returned within a few moments, handing the requested items over to Nicholas. The group watched in awed silence as Nicholas attached two of the ropes to the plank, and handed the third rope off to Tony, before guiding him over to a patch of tall grass between the field and the road.

“Stand there,” Nicholas said, planting Tony near as centre as he could manage. “Now, I’ve only seen this done once, so obviously...” Holding onto the other end of Tony’s rope, he awkwardly walked circles around the sergeant, using the plank to push the grass down in a neat circular pattern.

“Students, most likely,” Nicholas explained. “They get in by walking along the tractor ruts, so that you can’t find their tracks.”

The officers stared dumbly at Nicholas for a few moments before Inspector Clark led the confused farmer away, presumably to question him far away from the stupidity and insubo rdination of his officers.

“So...” Tony started nervously. “It weren’t aliens, then?”  
The entire station sat still as Danny was dragged into Inspector Clarke’s office in the new station, where he was very loudly reprimanded for mishandling a noise complaint. Although, it wasn’t as though Clarke was making an effort of keeping the volume down, or anything, and Nicholas very strongly suspected that he was intending to make an example of Danny.

When he finally sulked out of the office, mumbling something about needing to make an appointment, the entire station suddenly put their heads down, pretending to be doing something terribly important. Even Kyle Turner, at the inquires desk, put down his book and made a good show at doing something with the roster. Moments later, Clarke stomped through the room.

“Where the hell is Fisher?” he demanded.

“He’s on patrol, sir,” Nicholas answered quickly.

“Good.” The inspector qu ickly made his way outside, letting the lot of them out of his sight for the first time all week.

Confident that he would be gone for at least a few minutes, Nicholas jumped up and practically pounced on Danny’s desk, fetching up all of the loose folders strewn about. Replacing them with a stack from his own desk, Nicholas picked up his biro and made a quick job at double and triple checking all of the little ticky boxes and text areas on Danny’s reports.

“You ain’t re-filing his reports, are you?” Andrew asked from the other side of the room, where he’d been less-than-covertly listening in to the whole mess.

For a moment, Nicholas considered lying, but instead decided that simply shrugged would be a better answer.

“Fuck, that’s a good idea,” Andrew said as he quickly made his way over, snatching up half of the stack for himself.  
“This whole station is a disgrace.”

Nicholas stood stiffly in Clarke’s office, taking hi s turn at being yelled at again. “Sir?” he asked.

“You should be setting the example, as senior officer,” Clarke said angrily.

“Well, sir,” Nicholas said calmly. “Actually, Tony’s your senior officer. I was only made sergeant this year.”

Clarke scowled at Nicholas. “I expect this level of insubordination from that lot of pikey yobbo rubbish out there, but you really ought to know better.”

Nicholas inhaled deeply, taking a few moments to respond. “Yes, sir,” he said. “And I also know better than to degrade the integrity of my subordinate officers, whether to their face or to another officer. As should you.”

Clarke made an effort at breathing steadily. “Out,” he demanded. “Now.”  
For the first time since Nicholas could remember, he was running late. He knew he should have phoned in, but stopping to call would have just used more time, so he mended the showerhead (which he did have to admit had gone out in the most spectacular of fashions) as quickly as he could, which consisted of cleaning up the mess on the floor and putting the broken bits into the sink and made a mad dash to get dressed.

As he walked into the station, Kevin sat up suddenly, wide eyed. “You are still here, then,” he said, surprised.

“Why...wouldn’t I be?” Nicholas asked cautiously. “I thought I made it clear that I wasn’t planning on going anywhere.”

Kevin only shrugged. “I’unno. Things change sometimes, don’t they?”

Nicholas gave the sergeant a cautious glance before making his way back to the locker room to change quickly. As he made his way out to his desk, he received the same stunned reactions from the rest of the officers. He tried to ignore it, but even he didn’t have will power that strong.

“All right,” he said finally. “What’s going on?”

Danny only shrugged as the rest of the officers suddenly remembered they had work that need ed to be done. “You see,” he started nervously. “We don’t really know. Inspector Clarke didn’t come in today, and then you was late, and we all thought...”

“Thought what?” Nicholas asked quietly.

Danny shrugged again. “I’unno,” he said nervously.

Nicholas tried not to feel worried, but he couldn’t help but wonder what sort of wild rumours and theories were already being spread round the station.  
“Yes, ma’am,” Nicholas said with a nod. “I appreciate your circumstances, here, but you also have to be considerate of those around you.”

“But I can’t hear the telly if I don’t turn it up!” the old woman insisted.

Nicholas tried very hard not to sigh. “Yes, ma’am. You’ve said that,” he said, getting the distinct impression he’d be saying it again. “But this is the second complaint we’ve had about this residence. Now, I’m willing to work with you, and give you a second caution, but—”

“But if I turn it down, I can’t hear it,” the woman said stubbornly.

Nicholas didn’t care about pretending to be professional, and sighed very deeply. “Ma’am, I don’t care what you do to fix the issue, but you’re going to have to do something. I’m giving you a formal caution, here, and if we receive another call, you will be placed under arrest—”

“I am seventy-eight years old!” the old woman shouted. “You can’t arrest me!”

“Well, if we receive another call about the noise, I’m going to have to,” Nicholas said firmly. “I don’t want to do that, so don’t let that happen.”

“Fascist pig!” she shouted.

“Ma’am, please keep it down.” As he reached for his notebook, the front door slammed shut, rattling the old frame of the entire house.

“Sarge, you’re wanted at the station,” Doris said over the radio suddenly, the airwaves going silent just as quickly as they’d cracked to life.

“Right,” Nicholas responded. “Be in shortly.” He turned to Danny, who had been standing quietly at the side.

“So...” the constable said cautiously. “If that’s how you’re supposed to handle it, then what did I do wrong?”

Nicholas laughed as he led Danny back to the patrol car. “Well, I will be honest,” he said, climbing into the passenger seat. “Those calls only really go the way they should when the suspect cooperates with you.” He pulled his safety belt on as Danny revved up the engine, slowly pulling out to the road. “I’ll go through the forms with you after lunch, box by box.”

Danny nodded. “Right,” he said. “Bollocksed up the call, because she’s an old cunt, and bollocksed up the paperwork for no good reason.”

Nicholas laughed lightly. “I wouldn’t have put it in quite those terms, but yes.”  
He stared at the telephone in silence, trying to decide if he’d actually just had a conversation with Inspector Partridge, or if he’d imagined the whole thing. The difference between Inspector Partridge, and Sergeant Martin, was that Partridge would never actually just come out and say anything. It was always in between the lines, and Nicholas hated the guess work.

He hated sitting there, in the empty office where he’d made the call, left to wonder what was meant by London not sending anybody in. That Clarke had left, that much was certain. He’d hitched up and gone back to London without warning, and the station was once again without a leader.

Nicholas entertained the idea that the replacement was coming from elsewhere. There were plenty of divisions and constabularies that would promote from within, and it was very possible that they would get over crowded and need to send somebody off.

Standing slowly, Nicholas made his way out of the office, not at all surprised to find a group of grown men quickly scrambling away as not to get busted for listeni ng in on Nicholas’ half of the telephone conversation.

“We ain’t really without an inspector, are we?” Tony asked nervously.

Nicholas shook his head. “It’s only temporary,” he said. “Until—”

“Until London makes you inspector, you mean?” Andrew asked scathingly. Not sure where the sudden hostility came from, Nicholas shook his head.

“No,” he said. “Tony’s senior officer; he’d be the one up for it. Not me.”

Andrew sighed loudly. “Fuck, I don’t want him, either.”

Tony shook his head. “I don’t want to be chief,” he insisted.

“You were only made sergeant because Doris came in,” Andrew pointed out.

Tony nodded. “It’s true,” he admitted.

Nicholas sighed and picked up his hat from his desk. “I’m having lunch,” he announced. “Anyone wanting to discuss anything other than the state of the station is welcome to join me.”

He was not surprised when no one follow ed him to the Crown.  
He wasn’t intentionally avoiding the phone calls – at least, not that he’d ever admit to it – Inspector Partridge just always seemed to ring the station when he was out on a call. Or on patrol. Or on lunch for the third time that day. And he most certainly wasn’t pretending to be busy so that the only chance he ever had to ring back was well after Partridge had left the station.

What he was not expecting, was to pop into the station after dinner at the Crown in a hunt for his wayward mobile, only to find Inspector Partridge chatting up a very disinterested Kyle at the inquires desk.

“Ah, Nicholas,” he said cheerily, his plastic smile practically illuminating the entire room.

“Inspector,” Nicholas said with a curt nod.

“I was afraid I might have missed you,” Partridge said. “Again.”

Nicholas nodded once more as he made his way over to his desk. “Yes, well, lucky for us,” he said, trying not to sound bitter, “I seem to have misplaced my mobile.” He opened the top drawer, finding it exactly where he’d hidden it, with its ringer turned off. “What can I help you with?”

“I think you already know why I’m here, Nicholas,” Partridge said simply.

“No.”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to ask,” the inspector pointed out.

Nicholas straightened up, looking squarely at the inspector. “Don’t care,” he said. “Answer’s still no.”

“It’s a very lucrative offer.”

Nicholas shook his head. “There are other officers with more seniority than myself,” he pointed out. “Both Kevin and Kyle Turner have been here since before I started academy.”

Partridge shook his head and shoved a folder into Nicholas’ hands. “The decision’s already been made. This station needs a good leader, and you’re just our man.”

Nicholas narrowed his eyes. “Right,” he said slowly. “And what of all that begging me to go back to London?”

Partridge smiled oddly. “I don’t recall ever asking you to come back,” he said. “And I’ve never seen any transfer requests on the matter.”

“This is absurd,” Nicholas growled, slapping the folder down on his desk. He snatched up a biro, and set out signing in the appropriate boxes.  
Nicholas quietly filed his emails away into a dozen different folders, ignoring the unease in the station.

“I don’t want to be inspector,” Tony repeated to no one. “I don’t see how they can promote anyone if they don’t want to be.”

“Frank promoted you to sergeant,” Andrew pointed out.

“Oh.” Tony fidgeted awkwardly. “I still don’t want to be—”

“Just shut the fuck up about it, already!” Andrew snapped. “Nobody’s going to promote you anyway, you tosspot!”

Nicholas sighed as he reached under his desk, fetching the small cardboard box by his feet. He’d bee n hoping it would stay by his feet for longer, but instead he threw it at Andrew, hitting him in the shoulder.

“What the fuck, Nick?” Andrew demanded.

“That two pounds now, Detective,” Nicholas said simply, going back to his email. “Don’t make it three.”

Frowning, Andrew looked down at the box, and the hand written label on the top. “And what’s this for, then?” he demanded. “Your porn collection?”

“Paying off our massive debt to the pub,” Nicholas informed him. “Either that, or it’s coming out of your pay, so you’re chipping in, either way.”

“Oh, and that’s your decision to make, then?” Andrew demanded. “Who made you sheriff?”

Nicholas looked up at him blandly for a few moments, before returning to his email.

“Fuck,” Andrew said. “Sorry... er... chief.”

“Three pounds.”

Grumbling, Andrew dropped three coins into the box before sulking back to his shared office with Andy.

Tony looked around the station, startled. “Wot? When’d we get a sheriff, then?” he asked, only to be answered by a flying rubbish bin.


End file.
